Birds of Prey: Quoth the Raven
by Whitelighter Enchantress
Summary: The first in the sequel series to Phantasmagoria.
1. Part 1

**Birds of Prey**

**A series by Whitelighter Enchantress**

I.Quoth the Raven 

A/n: These short stories are the sequels to _Phantasmagoria_. Just so you know, you've already read the first half of this; it's the epilogue from the aforementioned fiction.

Disclaimer: I own a Scrabble dictionary, I own the _Wicked_ soundtrack, but I do not own Alias. Oh, and chapstick, I own some chapstick.

Part 1 

_"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting--_

_"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!_

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! 

_Leave my loneliness unbroken! -- quit the bust above my door!_

_Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off __my door!__"_

_Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."_

The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe

"No!" she screams, ripping her body the farthest she can carry herself within the limits of the room; her back slams against the cold steel of a filing cabinet, jarring several of its drawers open.

"Yes, Sydney," Jack pushes on. "And you've been afraid to admit it to yourself, nor will you discuss the events that occurred with anyone."

She cries as if being tortured as she stares in horror at her father, strong and omnipotent before her.

_Sydney set the hamper onto the mattress and proceeded to take clothing from it piece by piece, folding it neatly on the mattress. She heard the floor boards under the stairs creak behind her and soon she felt her husband's presence in the doorway._

_"I'm headed out to the store. You need anything besides peanut butter?"_

_She shook her head. "I don't think so." She turned slowly and leaned over her stomach to peck him on the cheek. "See you later." He patted her bulging middle gently before exiting the room; the sound of the front door opening and closing quickly followed._

"No, Dad," she beckons for him to stop.

Yet he proceeds. "Your hallucinations, or visions, whatever is going on, you need to stop. You have a child to take care of, who is your responsibility, whose precious life is held in your hands and your hands alone!"

Between her grandfather's loud tone and her mother's cries, Leah's light whimpering grows. Jack's hand constantly rocks her carrier back and forth to no avail. Sydney sniffles in several short, hacking breaths and watches her daughter. Still so tiny, so innocent… And still so plagued by the life Sydney never wanted for her.

_Once finished with the monotonous yet calming folding, Sydney put the clothes away in their proper places and wandered into the hallway. She rested her hand on the banister to the stairs, yet something drew her into the nursery. Leaning against the doorway, she rested one hand on her stomach and used the other to tap the light switch. Suddenly the room before her illuminated and a smile curled at her lips._

_The room was small, yet large enough to hold the necessary furniture and baby items. She recalled the many hours she and Vaughn had spent working in that room over the past few months when she heard a noise from downstairs._

"You can't take her away from me, she's all I have left." She pleads, her knees shaking. "She's all I have to keep me sane."

"And you're all she has, as well." Out of the corner of her eye, she spies a shadow looming in the doorway. There stands Vaughn, tall and solemn. But silent. Jack's gaze does not waver. "This has to end."

_Sydney furrows her brow. "Michael?" At the lack of response, she turns off the light and stands warily at the top of the stairs. She hadn't heard him come back inside. Again, she tried, "Michael?" yet again there was no answer. In her confusion she slowly made her way down the rickety stairs, her hands on each side of the wall guiding her down steeply._

Again, she cries. "What has to end? There's nothing wrong; ev-everything is fine." Her eyes flutter back and forth from the looming figure to her father, waiting for the former to say something, to utter any sound implying his well-being.

"You think he's here, but he's not. You imagine yourself still wrapped in his arms, but you're not. You sit holding Leah in your arms and pretend that he's holding her, that he's talking to her, soothing her cries. But he's not, Sydney. He never has been, nor will he–"

"Stop!"

"Don't think that I don't see it. Your eyes haze over, your mind drifts off to another place. You fail to hear her crying, you don't eat for days at a time. You cannot do this to yourself, and I will not allow you to do this to her."

"I said stop, damn it!"

_She turned at the base of the stairs and glanced into the kitchen. Even with the dim lighting she could easily see no one was inside. With her still furrowed brow and her hand back in place, protective over her baby, she turned towards the living room._

_Immediately she stopped when she saw him. Her feet froze to the spot, her hand clutched her belly tighter, and all her greatest fears suddenly became true. He stood tranquil in the center of the room, his now scraggly beard patchy across his face and neck, his hair a light gray around his balding head. And he smiled, a most twisted and malicious formation of lips, hatred burning like fire in his eyes. "Your name shall haunt me nevermore, Sydney Bristow."_

Leah's cries erupt more intensely from her tiny lungs, and Sydney waits for the image that is Vaughn to speak; he does not. "I need her," she manages between sobs. "You can't take her from me!"

"I can, and until you can accept the present as reality you will not be the sole provider for your daughter."

"But Vaughn–"

"Can't help you. He's dead, Sydney."

_The lights in the room flashed on, forcing her to close her eyes yet again. She pried them open anyway, the stinging in her pupils causing tears to fall. When finally focused, she observed the unknown object in the room was indeed a chair. The guards shoved him into it, and he sank pitifully. She noticed cuts and bruises covering his face and she bit her tongue, wanting desperately to scream. She made herself look away, only to discover wires, cords, devices of torment along with the chair. She screamed anyway._

"No," escapes from her lips softly, her child's near screaming resounding in her ears.

_She heard the electricity building up; she stared directly into her husband's eyes, the only undamaged feature on his face. She watched as he stared hard at her stomach, his baby, before he met her gaze. He knew he would die._

Her eyes scan the room as memories flood back to her, a phantasmagoric scene playing before her eyes.

_Meanwhile Sloane's fingers gripped the rubber handle of a lever, his eyes twinkling with sadistic delight. He had waited three years for this, three long, tortuous years. In a swift movement he pulled down on the lever, and electricity seared through the man's body._

Finally she settles her view on Vaughn, gently crying, "No, no," as he stares back at her, eyes full of pity.

_She screamed as they delivered the final blow, writhing on the floor as he jolted in the chair. And suddenly, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he slumped over._

She closes her eyes, fighting the flash of images that pelt her mind. Screaming is heard, rivaling that of Leah's, yet she fails to realize it is her own.

"_No!" she screamed, fighting harder against the chains. "No!" She gaped through tears at his twitching foot. Twice… Three times… Once… No more._

She opens her eyes and screams again. Her eyes dance around the room, she cannot focus on Vaughn, her father, or Leah. Finally her eyes fall to the floor, and her knees crumble beneath her. She balls her fists and presses her face into the exposed palm and wrists.

"Just look at yourself," Jack urges, spitting at her. "Look at yourself!"

Sydney does so, pulling her hands away slowly, gasping for air. Through the strands of hair that dangle in front of her eyes she finds thick white streaks of flesh over her wrists; the scars she has ignored for the past months, the scars she has refused to take in.

Throwing her damaged wrists to her sides she tears her eyes away, and they fall upon an opened drawer in the file cabinet. She elicits another sob as her fingers reach inside and caress the cold steel, slowly wrapping them around the handle, stroking the trigger.

She closes her eyes, tears still streaming down her face. Jack is no longer watching her, attempting to calm the baby; Vaughn's looming form stands indifferent to the situation. If she is going to carry on, continue her life the only way she knows how, then she has to do things her way.

Opening her eyes, she looks directly at the silent image, wanting to touch him, wanting him to comfort her, but now her yearning desire is not enough. Barely audible, she whispers, "Good-bye," and focuses her gaze on her father.

Her cries ease; Leah's quiet. Jack's hand returns to rocking the carrier to remain soothing the baby's whimpers. When his eyes lift meet his daughter's he finds the black barrel of a gun staring back at him. Sydney pulls the trigger, blood spattering, the icy pistol dropping to the floor.

Jack's eyes remain wide with shock as his knees buckle. He slumps on his side onto the carpet, a crimson stain growing around him. And while Jack's body falls to his death, Vaughn's image disappears forever from Sydney's sight. Deep down, she has always known it one day would.

With short, erratic breaths she stands, shaking. She moves forward and carefully spins the carrier to face her. Grabbing hold of Leah's hand, Sydney calmly consoles her from the noise of the gunshot. And after wiping a speck of Jack's blood off her daughter's pudgy cheek, she lifts the carrier and walks away; away from the memories, away from the pain, away from home...

Rome is always nice this time of year.


	2. Part 2

Part 2 

Sydney sits cross-legged on the floor and bounces her three-month-old daughter on her knee. The young child laughs at her mother, her small brown eyes absorbing each detail on Sydney's smiling face. Leah is one of the few things that can make her smile these days. The baby continues to giggle, unaware of this quality she possesses and gnaws sloppily on her hands.

Of course, Sydney had known Vaughn was dead all along.

But how could she admit defeat to Arvin Sloane? How could she let go of the man whom sacrificed everything for her happiness? Had he not left behind his friends, his family, his precious belongings just for her? After everything they went through in Bern, how could she pick up the pieces of her old life as Sydney Bristow, and carry on completely sane? She admits to her dementia now, but before she was truly incapable of knowing now to live without him.

As a result, she conjured his image day after day, week after week, and pretended to hold on to a normal life, or as normal as the Vaughns could be. And until her father showed her the truth– revealing the full extent of her hallucinations –had she been able to live this false life; until he had threatened to take away what reality remained. She had already lost Vaughn, and in that moment, his phantom; she was not about to lose Leah.

Killing her father became necessary for a chance of normalcy, as ironic as it sounded. But now Sydney had an opportunity to raise Leah on her own, an opportunity Jack refused to give her, and an opportunity to return to stability. Her daughter will never be a victim of Project Christmas, forced into the life Sydney tried to desperately to escape.

She and Leah transported to Rome immediately, bringing with them very few items including clothing, the baby essentials, and a single photograph of the late Michael Vaughn. They found the nearest and cheapest hotel close to the airport, and for the first time Sydney broke down about Vaughn's death. She cried, she screamed his name, she threw things at the wall, she closed her eyes and opened them half-expecting Vaughn to appear, concern dripping off his furrowed brow, yet he would not. No longer would he appear when her mind requested of it; no longer could she feel his arms wrapped around her, just the blankets; no longer did the sound of his voice echo so easily in her ears.

Then her daughter would cry, and Sydney would hear it. She would take Leah into her arms and hold her, calm her, feed her, kiss her, wash her, play with her, love her…

Soon Sydney found an apartment off the Via del Corso. It is small, very small, but she possesses very little besides a baby. To earn her rent she watches the landlady's four-year-old daughter, Carina, until she gets a job. She has decided she wants to work at the University, possibly at in the library there, but also wants to wait a few months when Leah is older. As of now the little one is very wary of anyone outside of her mother, but is growing accustomed to Carina. The four-year-old tries to get Leah to speak her name, but she cannot understand that Leah is too young to talk. Sydney finds her attempts cute, however.

Sometimes during the day the three will venture through the city. They often sit on the Spanish steps, with Leah happily chewing her newly discovered hands in mother's lap while Carina jumps from step to step at their side. If she behaves well Sydney buys her candy, or gelato on occasion.

At times, it is difficult to know that she is moving on without Vaughn, but she must carry on for Leah's sake, the baby certainly showed her that. Leah sleeps longer at night now, partly because Carina's spunk is tiresome for a three-month-old, but it allows Sydney time to herself. Time to think, reminisce, plan. Sleep is hard at first, but it comes easier every night.

Thus far her plan is honesty with Leah. She will know the truth as she grows up. Not one aspect of Sydney's past will be made secret to her. She will know of her Grandmother's betrayal, how she rots in prison, how she took the life of her father's father. She will know of her Grandfather's fondness of her, his tiny look-a-like. She will know that Sydney killed him to give their family a chance of survival, a life free of lies, that his intentions were good but misguided. She will know of her father's devotion to his family, of his love for Sydney, of the love he had for Leah in the womb. She will see his picture every day; his green eyes, his wrinkled forehead. She will hear of their clandestine relationship in Los Angeles and their fairy-tale romance in Bern. She will know that Arvin Sloane chased them into hiding. She will know that Arvin Sloane is pure evil, a shadow on their souls. She will know that Arvin Sloane is responsible for her father's death.

Sometimes she wishes that Leah was the spitting image of Vaughn so she may still see him alive and well. Yet she does not yet resemble him; perhaps she will inherit her father's qualities as she ages, Sydney can only hope.

She lays Leah down to sleep, stopping to run her finger over Vaughn's picture next to the crib. Glancing back at Leah, she is at last certain she need not hallucinate his presence, for Vaughn is a part of them that no one being can take away. She knows he will always be with her.

Fin


End file.
